Tournament of Princes
by Iryl
Summary: Any fighter can compete for the hand of the elusive Princess Sakura. But when a young Chinese lord decides to try his luck, he finds himself wanting to win the princess' green-eyed champion more than the princess--whom he has yet to meet.
1. The Announcement

**Tournament of Princes**

**by Iryl**

**Summary:** All fighters are invited to compete for the hand of the beautiful and wealthy Princess Sakura. When a young Chinese lord decides to try his luck, he finds himself wanting to win the princess' green-eyed champion more than the princess -- whom he has yet to meet.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Announcement**

The news of the tournament was received with a mixture of emotions by the people. They were ready for their princess to marry, but, in passing her inheritance to her husband immediately after the tournament, they worried that King Kinomoto was getting ready too early for his children to govern after him – earlier than the people wanted to be reminded that he was advancing in years as quickly as his children were advancing in beauty and skill.

"Tournament of Princes," a young man read off the pole. He was traveling through Japan on some family business and was allowed several days for leisure after his affairs were taken care of. "Young or old, royal or peasant, all may compete for the hand of the Princess Sakura Kinomoto," he continued on to read the day and place and realized that he was only several hours ride away from the capital and that his business would be finished in plenty of time to go and watch a few of the fights. A warrior at heart, he wondered how good the local Japanese fighters were and made up his mind to find out.

In his head as he walked away, he began to pen a letter to his mother that would let him stay in Japan another two weeks.


	2. Signing Up

**Chapter 2: Signing Up**

The tournament grounds were misty and just tinted cool with a breeze. Long lines of men waited to sign up at the two tables, straggling into the small field that they would be fighting on – lots of different types of men, too. Syaoran leaned against the support beam for a stand of seats and watched them. A few were farmers, still in their work clothes and sunhats, carrying scythes. They were pure muscle, mostly, leaning more on the brawn built through heavy labor than any particular skill in fighting. Still others were soldiers, trained and hardened for battle, but no match for a well-trained swordsman or martial artist. Or mage, for that matter. He wondered idly if magic would be allowed – and if so, who would be able to use it.

Still others in line were boys, not even young men yet, who had built faulty confidence through the ignorance of youth and minor victories in local brawls.

"You're not from around here."

Syaoran turned, surprised that someone had been able to sneak up on him, and found himself facing a pair of very hostile brown eyes. The young man's body was in a posture of relaxation, but his muscles were lightly tensed as if ready for a fight.

"Are you signing up?" he asked, tilting his chin toward the lines in a gesture that he somehow managed to _pour_ contempt into. His eyes, when they fell on the lines and lines of men, were fierce and angry.

"I came to watch," Syaoran replied, wondering who this man was.

"Good," the young man said. "The fewer men in this ridiculous travesty of a husband-hunt, the better." And he stalked off.

Syaoran's good mood had vanished. Something about that young man had brought his hackles up. He cast a dark look toward the tables where men were signing up and turned --

-- bumping right into someone.

"Sorry!" the someone said, wincing as he turned his full glare on . . . her? "I really didn't mean to bump into you."

His glare turned into a blush as she smiled at him. She was all in white, wearing a somewhat form-fitting jumpsuit with ribbons trailing down from her short hair. Her eyes when she smiled at him became a dark, mischievous green.

"I guess I'll see you on the field," she said, turning and glancing back with what he could only consider a maddening look, heavy-lashed and provocative even though she was merely being friendly. "I'm the princess' champion in this whole thing."

Before she got very far, she was accosted by a beautiful young woman with endless waves of dark hair. "Cute Champion! There you are! I am missing wonderful opportunities to sketch you! Oh, the woe that I could not find you sooner in this crowd!" Her eyes sparkled and she overflowed with soft, bubbly joy at having found her friend.

"Cute Champion" laughed and blushed at the same time, a charming mixture, and Syaoran stood watching them walk away from the field, a somewhat dumbfounded look on his face.

It was probably then that he got in line without realizing it and signed his name before he even knew what he was doing.

* * *

**Syaoran:** pronounced SH(OW)-ran 

**Sakura's outfit:** cut like the FFX-2 alchemist outfit but without all the armor and elaboration. It's mostly white, breathable fabric with a little mild blue pattern. (I wanted a more form-fitting, feminine version of Yue's clothes. Maybe you could even think in terms of Paine's white mage outfit.) But I particularly want you to note that cutout over the chest in the FFX-2 alchemist outfit. I think that's a nice feminine touch. In any case, I'll try to describe it in more detail later.


	3. Practice

**Chapter 3: Practice**

"Today you will spend training for the first bouts, which will be held in the morning. You will come back to the castle at lunchtime and at dinner to socialize with the royal family and to eat properly." Syaoran gave the royal messenger only part of his attention -- most of him was focused on searching the crowd for the green-eyed girl he met the day before.

He hadn't been too upset to wake up and realize that he had entered the contest for the princess of the Kinomoto Kingdom. He just had to make very sure not to _win_, was all. It was a strange paradox inside him. He didn't want to win the tournament, but he wanted to do well in order to impress the champion.

He blushed a little as he realized his own intentions. He had never . . . wanted . . . to impress a woman before. But now he very desperately did, and it confused him.

"May I introduce to you all today to the champion for the princess." Syaoran's head snapped up. There she was, standing by the royal messenger and looking pretty and fresh in her white ribbons. "Her role is to defeat those unworthy of the Princess Sakura and is the _only_ one in this tournament allowed to use magic." A few men groaned, and Syaoran's eyes narrowed with interest. She could use magic! "To preserve her personal safety and chastity during her time alone with the men of this tournament, she has been assigned a guard to fend off unwelcome situations. Yue." A tall, youthful man with long white hair and a cold, still expression stood beside the girl. She smiled at him, a smile that shed sunlight, but he did not return it.

Her chastity would be _fine_ in the presence of a man so untouched by her beauty, Syaoran decided, feeling somewhat acerbic because the man's lack of response had made the girl wilt slightly. There was something powerful around that man, and he was doubly confused because he couldn't understand why the man would not smile in the face of such a sweet girl. It went against all the laws of human nature.

"The rules," the royal messenger told them, "will be given to you tonight at dinner. Please go and train hard."

"Right!" the champion cried, and with a jubilant bounce she led the way to the field where they could spread out and perhaps spar a little. Her guard stayed close to her the whole time, but Syaoran managed to find a spot on the field near enough to see her but far enough not to bother her. Unfortunately, the distraction she provided made him tense and fumbling when trying to practice his technique, and eventually he gave up and tried to do a few stretches to relax himself.

"I thought you said you were just going to watch," a deep, accusing voice wafted over his shoulder, and Syaoran turned to look.

"Eh?" he said, blinking at the taller young man he'd met the other morning. He blushed deeply and forced himself not to glance in the direction of the champion -- who was, at that moment, making bubbles come out of her fingertips for some of the younger boys. This young man managed to make him feel defensive, so his voice, when he replied, was harsher than usual. "I changed my mind."

The young man shook his head, gave him a particularly piercing angry stare, and strode over to the pretty champion girl, who stopped her bubbles on seeing his stormy expression. Syaoran watched them outright, as did many of the other men, but some of them had smirks on their faces as they saw her so easily dominated. Syaoran, however, was not amused -- not amused at all.

The dark young man started to vent, towering over the champion girl. "I hate this," he told her, and she looked very sad at his words. "I hate this whole thing -- it's inviting the greedy and the strong and the stupid to fight over Sakura, and I _hate_ it." He was close to her, within her personal space, but her guard did nothing. And she . . . she only looked sad, not scared. That was the only thing that kept Syaoran from interfering. "I don't want her to get married."

At this, she put a soft hand on his arm. "At least I'm here to give her a say," she said, and her words seemed to hold some potent reminder for the young man, who forced his breathing to slow and stepped away.

"Right," he said, sighing. His eyes met hers and his mouth twisted. "Beat them _all_ up."

She laughed a little, but a few of the men stepped forward at this. "Who are you to protest what the king has decreed?" the biggest of them said. When the young man only sneered and turned away, the big warrior reached out to grab his arm --

-- but he never made contact. Before his fingers even reached the sleeve of the young man's shirt, Yue, the champion's guard, caught his arm and twisted it behind his back, knocking the wind out of the warrior with a deft knee to his midsection.

"That," said Yue in a frighteningly soft voice, "is Prince Touya Kinomoto, brother to the woman you fight for. He has every right to say whatever he wishes. And you will not touch him."

Touya was able to leave the area unmolested.

* * *

Syaoran watched the others a good deal after that. He saw that the men thought that the champion wasn't any sort of a warrior but were nervous about her magic. Several of them hoped to take her down before she was able to get a spell off, but Syaoran knew from his own training that just because she had magic didn't mean that she didn't know how to fight. For himself, he hoped that she _could_ fight. Not only because it would keep her from getting hurt by some of these overgrown thugs, but also because he could respect a woman who could fight. 

He was eager -- no, _desperate --_ to see her in action. But all she did in training were some limbering stretches and a few harmless magic tricks for those who wanted them. She smiled at anyone who was even mildly nice to her and chattered readily to any listening ears. Syaoran listened intently -- but pretended not to.

"I really enjoy playing with my cat, Kero, but he eats too much and is going to get fat soon. I keep telling him that, but he never listens." And then she laughed and smiled up at her guard, "Isn't that right, Yue?" but he remained stoic, only glancing at her to acknowledge that he'd heard.

Then she seemed to feel Syaoran's eyes on her and turned, glancing back and meeting his gaze -- and Syaoran felt his heart speed up and his face get hot, and he swiftly got back to practicing. His movements were stiff and jerky and his palms were sweating, but he wouldn't look back at her again, not until he was sure that she'd turned back around.

He was just about to glance over and check when a soft breath against his ear made him jump. "Are you all right?" He twirled around and found himself nose-to-nose with the princess' champion. She was smiling, her eyes half-closed and a laugh playing about her lips.

_Crap_. He'd looked at her lips, and now he couldn't stop! _Crap crap crap crap crap crap . . ._ "Yes," he said, and his voice was far too high even to his own ears.

"We met yesterday, didn't we? But I didn't get your name."

Her lips were right there! Moving for him, breathing on him, smiling at him! He was going to die of lack of her lips, like a starving man in front of a feast that he couldn't eat. "Li," he squeaked. "Syaoran Li."

"Li," she put her tongue around the strange name, as if tasting it. "Li," she smiled. "It's nice to meet you."

"Yes," he replied, watching her turn to leave him, then glance over her shoulder with that same impish look she'd had the day before.

"Let's be friends, okay?"

He was tomato-red and could only nod.

* * *

He was on cloud nine -- until she asked nine other men to be friends, too. Each time upset him as thoroughly as the last, and he noted each and every one of the men so that he could beat them to bloody pulps when he fought them in the tournament. It was in this way that he passed his time until lunch and then until dinner. 

At dinner, the tournament rules were announced by the king himself. A tall man with a kind face, he began by apologizing for the absence of his daughter, who was ill. He assured them, though, that she sent her regards and her fond wishes for all of them -- but particularly for her honored future husband.

The most sensational rule, even more so than the presence of Sakura's Champion, was the no-kill rule. If a combatant intentionally killed their opponent, they would be disqualified and thrown out of the city in disgrace. The king was very somber when telling them this, and Syaoran was glad for the sake of the champion. If she was as fragile as she looked -- as fragile as he hoped she wasn't -- she would need the extra protection of that rule.

"There will also be no dirty tactics in this tournament -- if I find that there is cheating of any kind, a player will be disqualified. Depending on the severity of the infraction, there may be consequences.

"If anyone dares to harm Sakura's Champion outside of the tournament fights," he continued, looking so serious that his glasses flashed in warning, "they will be disqualified. The champion is a very dear friend of the royal family and rule-breakers in this matter will be dealt with in the severest of manners." He glanced at the tall, pale-haired guard nearby. "Hopefully, that will not be a problem with Yue around."

At the end of the king's speech, everyone sat and was fed, and Syaoran found his gaze inexorably pulled toward the top of the table where the champion was eating with the lords and ladies of the court. She was sitting next to the prince, he noticed, and it worried him as to whether they were close. Touya had spoken to her very informally on the field and that implied a level of intimacy between the two. But . . . perhaps they were just friends?

His instincts told him something else was going on between the champion and the prince, but he ignored his instincts, telling them to sit down and shut up.

Because he couldn't have entered a tournament to woo the prince's woman. That would be too cruel of fate.

He took the time to wonder if he would go for her even if she _was_ the prince's woman. He was Chinese and so didn't fall under the jurisdiction of the prince of Japan. But might it cause an international incident? And if it did, would he care? He would have to find out, first, if she was worth it. And that meant getting close to her. This took him off on a whole new pattern of thoughts.

After a while, he was distracted by the man sitting beside him. He was stuffing food into a sack and trying to be secretive about it. Syaoran watched him out of the corner of his eye for a little while before saying, "Are you going to be that hungry later, or do you not plan to live through the preliminaries tomorrow?"

The man looked up at him, startled. His face was dirty and his hair was a mess, and with his face held up Syaoran could see the slightly sunken look of his cheeks that meant he was no stranger to hunger.

"I have kids," he said softly, eyes never leaving Syaoran's clean, handsome face. "My wife died a while back, and I'm not going to win, so I thought I'd . . ." _Take food back to your children._ Syaoran nodded, meaning he didn't have to finish the thought, and the man looked down, his hands still on the bag in his lap.

"I don't encourage stealing, as a rule, and you're very bad at it. So I'll give you a piece of advice -- I wouldn't make it a profession if I were you," Syaoran said, slipping a piece of fruit into his lap and tossing it into the man's bag so quickly that it left the man blinking in surprise.

The man smiled. "Thank you."

Syaoran only nodded and sipped from his goblet.

* * *

The charts were being drawn up after dinner to decide who would fight who in the preliminaries. The king told them that at the end of the next day, their number would be cut in half. This made a good deal of the fighters pensive, but a rare few began boasting loudly about their impending victory. Part of this had something to do with the alcohol they'd had with dinner, but Syaoran knew that most men could handle several cups more without becoming loud and obnoxious. 

One of the men he recognized as the man Yue had stopped that morning. He kept casting mean glances out of the side of his eyes at the champion and her guard, and he tended to glower a little too openly at the prince.

He wasn't the only one, though. The prince had made no attempts to disguise his hatred of this whole event. In his eyes, they were not welcome in his home and on his father's grounds.

And _none_ of them were worthy of his sister.

The champion darted around, asking names and hurrying back to lean over the chart of fighters for the morrow. Several people were working on it -- the king, prince, champion, and the girl who had called her "Cute Champion" the day before. Yue stood a little apart, but was consulted, and he occasionally offered narrow-eyed advice.

After they'd finished, they called the names and fights (which took a very long time because there were hundreds of men) and said that if anyone had been left out to come up to the table and tell them. Syaoran left with a backward glance at Sakura's Champion. She was chattering prettily with a few men who had approached the table to get their names in.

He went to bed jealous and unhappy.


	4. Preliminaries

**Chapter 4: Preliminaries**

* * *

**Her Magic: **Sakura's magic works a little differently here. She still has to say the name of the spell and can do only one at a time, but she has no cards. Instead, the spells are inside her. So she doesn't have to pull out a card to do a spell, or be holding her wand, she can just do it. 

**The Champion** is Sakura, yes. That's supposed to be apparent, but I'm telling you just in case it's not.

**The** **SH(OW)-ran** **Thing:** By the way, my putting the Japanese pronunciation of Syaoran's name (I only saw it in Japanese, so I don't know the English) is just because I was reading CCS fics before I saw the show and it was driving me crazy because I desperately wanted to know how his name was pronounced. It's not some twisted attempt to make myself a pompous jerk, in case anyone was worried. Nobody's said anything, but I'm covering my bases anyway.

* * *

Most of the fights were happening at the same time and preselected judges would call the winner of each. Syaoran was stretching to warm up for his fight while the boundaries were being drawn. The field was being divided for these fights because, as Syaoran noticed when the names were called, they were expected to be done with rather quickly. In order to weed out the inexperienced fighters quickly, they had been paired with obviously strong and experienced fighters. A few of the loud men from the night before started to complain when they saw their opponents, but the large one that had been attacked by Yue didn't. He was looking at his opponent with a mixture of pleasure and fear. 

He was fighting the champion.

"I forfeit," a laugh came from behind Syaoran. He turned and saw the man he'd spoken to at dinner, the one who had been stealing food. Now he was smiling and holding up his hands in a surrender motion.

"Are you serious?" Syaoran asked. He was disappointed at not getting to fight, but glad that he wouldn't have to beat so obviously inept an opponent.

The man nodded. "I've seen how fast you are with your hands -- I'm not stupid. I came here for the food, mostly."

Syaoran shrugged. He wanted to watch the champion's fight, anyway. "Let's tell the judge."

The judge raised one eyebrow, marked Syaoran the winner on her paper, and the two men drifted over to the champion's circle.

Sakura's Champion was lovely. Her white fighting clothes skimmed over her skin, allowing her full range of movement while still giving her femininity some play. The neck dipped down low and cut straight across the tops of her breasts, pressing them in and holding them so that she could move without having to worry about them bouncing too much. Around her neck was a long white ribbon tied behind in a simple bow like the two ribbons holding her hair back. Pale blue edged her clothes, and on her feet were soft white boots with wings on them.

A royal trumpeter would play one loud note for all the fights to begin. The king stood by, waiting for the judges to all give him the go-ahead so that he could cue the trumpeter, and Syaoran watched Sakura's Champion intently. If he looked _through_ her instead of at her, he could see the magic she was calling up already. It was small, he could tell, the spell she was holding, and he wondered what it was.

One sharp, short blast of the trumpet, and the champion's palm snapped up. She said "Windy" and before her opponent knew what had hit him, he was blown out of the ring.

And, that quickly, she had won.

She turned, a small sigh passing her lips as her face softened and her body relaxed -- and that was when the stunned man got up and lunged at her, fury written in every line of his face.

Syaoran was able to put himself between the champion and her attacker only moments after Yue had moved. In three fluid motions, he had disarmed the man and knocked him flat. The attacker was, Syaoran saw when he could focus properly past the red haze of rage, unconscious and bleeding.

"Thank you," her breathless voice said from behind him, and Syaoran turned. Her eyes were a limpid green that swirled with dark emotions. She seemed stunned that any man would attack her like that, but also surprised at Syaoran's quick reaction. She looked at him and seemed to see him, but she was confused. "You would protect me so readily when I stand between you and the princess?"

"I . . ." he almost choked on his own tongue, "'m not here for that," he muttered, face hot and body so tense that he felt he would shatter if she touched him.

She gave him a strange look. "You're not here for what?"

He bowed low. "I just wanted to fight," he told her. "I don't want to win."

Her look was even stranger now, but he was encouraged that he'd gotten her attention -- and maybe her interest. She was, at the moment, trying to understand him. But that meant that she would have to think about him. So, at the very least, he was in her thoughts.

"Excuse me," he said, more to get away from her than anything, "I promised my new friend that I would help him pack." And so he turned, found his opponent, and hurried the other man back toward the castle.

The man was looking at Syaoran oddly as they walked. "What on earth . . . why are you here if you don't want the princess?"

Syaoran ducked his head and blushed furiously. "That's none of your business," he gritted out.

Comprehension was dawning on the man's face. "You want the _champion_, don't you? I can't say I wouldn't like a pretty young woman like her myself -- strong women bear strong children, you know. But I'd be afraid of offending the royal family, if I were you."

"Yes, well, that's why I'm going to lose. Eventually." He was eager to get off the subject. "Let's just go get your stuff together. Are you staying through lunch or are you leaving right away?"

"Leaving, I'd say," the man said, scratching his chin. "I want to get that food back to my kids as soon as I can. No use staying around here much longer."

"Right," Syaoran agreed, but his mind was already drifting back to a pair of green eyes.

He sat somewhat glumly while his "friend" got his large sack of pilfered meat and bread. With the sack across his back, he smelled so strongly of roast fowl that Syaoran was sure he'd attract every dog in the city. But he held his tongue and walked out to the front castle steps with the man.

"It was good to meet you," Syaoran said, bowing to bid the man farewell. "My name is Syaoran Li. I wish you good luck and fair weather on your journey home."

"I am Fuku," said the man, also bowing, but as he bent at his waist the bag he was carrying overbalanced and started to topple him over. Syaoran was able to grab him before he fell down the stairs, but the bag hit the steps and burst open, spilling stolen food all down the grand entrance to the Kinomoto castle.

"You dropped something," a very small, familiar voice came from behind them. The two men turned to the young woman who was looking at the mess in dismay. She turned her eyes onto Fuku, her white ribbons rustling in the wind.

"Where did you get this food?" Yue said from behind her, his pale eyes narrowed.

Fuku started to tremble. "I . . . it . . . my children . . ."

Syaoran stepped up, his voice steady and eyes unwavering as they met the longed-for green. This was bigger than he was, more important that his goals. But he couldn't help a small quailing in his stomach at having to stand up to this woman. "His children are hungry. We thought no one would miss a few things from dinner last night." And so sealed his fate.

She looked at them, down at the scattered food, then said, "Come with me."

It wasn't long before their fear was allayed. Though Syaoran was nervous, he refused to show it or admit that this may have crushed his chances for the beautiful champion.

They could smell the cooking from the corridor, and the champion caught a kitchen maiden and whispered something in her ear. She glanced at the men behind the other woman, but left to do as she was told. It wasn't long before she returned with a small bulging bag that the champion opened for inspection.

"Jerky," she murmured, "journey bread, honey, milk. Yes, this will do." She handed it to Fuku and told him that this food would travel better than what he had picked up in the dining hall. She looked at him inquisitively. "Do you have a mount?" He shook his head, and she led them toward the stables. "There's a very old donkey here -- we're pretty much just waiting for her to die. She ought to have one good trip left in her and if you can get her home, the meat will feed your family for a few weeks. Ho, stablemaster!" she called, and the two men behind her looked at each other, amazement flying between them.

Soon, Fuku was settled with his sack of food on the old donkey -- before he left, though, he bent close to Syaoran and whispered quite urgently, "If you get the chance at all, _marry her_."

"Okay," Syaoran replied, smiling. He stood back with the champion and Yue to watch Fuku ride out of the front gates. He gave the grinning, waving girl a sidelong glance, then smiled. She looked so young and bright when she was happy. All he said, though, was, "You certainly know your way around the castle." What he wanted to say was left unsaid: _You are very kind._

She turned her bright smile on him. "I should. I grew up here."

"Really. So you are close to the royal family?" She only smiled her assent. "What's your name?"

Here she paused and blushed. "Sakura's Champion," she stammered.

She was being stubborn. "That can't be your real name."

Again she blushed and glanced at her unhelpful guard.

"At least tell me your family's name so that I might call you by it. It's very awkward to call you 'Sakura's Champion' all the time."

"Er--Daidouji. I'm . . . Daidouji." She seemed to be searching frantically for another subject and her eyes lit up as she found one. "You said a little while ago that you weren't here to win. That was very curious. Could you tell me why?"

He smiled. "Another time. I promise." And something about his eyes kept her from prying.

* * *

That evening, the champion's guard, Yue, was gone. He was resting, apparently, but Syaoran worried that he would tell someone about the donkey and the food and that Daidouji-Champion would get in trouble. 

_Daidouji_. It was pretty -- elegant. He liked the taste of it on his lips. But he liked "Li" better, especially in _her _case. He did not want her to come out of this a Daidouji.

Unfortunately, a few of the other men, the ones that knew they wouldn't win anyway, seemed to be thinking along the same lines. If they couldn't come out of this with a princess, perhaps they could catch a very pretty young champion instead. To make matters worse, her cheerful friendliness _encouraged_ them! Syaoran didn't want to be outgoing and social -- he didn't like crowds much -- but he felt more and more the need to pry his way into that little group of admirers and outshine them all.

Luckily, that was what he was here for -- to outshine them on the battlefield.

He started to feel a little bloodthirsty, but he welcomed it as he welcomed the morning. It would be a long day, but he would take care of his rivals -- he only prayed that he would be matched with some of them.

* * *

**AN: **This is my first _Card Captor Sakura_ fic. If you want many more CCS fics by me, please encourage me with reviews. I love reviews and they make me want to write. 


	5. Round One

**Chapter 5: Round One**

* * *

**The Daidouji Name Game:** To prevent confusion, I'll always call Sakura "Daidouji-Champion" or something with "Champion" in it, and Tomoyo will always either be unnamed or "Tomoyo." I will try my best to make the seperation clear so that no one gets confused. 

**Sakura** is the princess _and_ the champion, yes. (Because someone asked.) Elaboration will come in time.

**Yue** is the personality and voice he had in the anime (Japanese subtitled). I'm trying really hard on him because I adore him.

Please enjoy this story. It makes me very happy to make others happy. And thank you to all the wonderful people who tripled my review count -- it exploded. Boom!

* * *

He was distracted. It was that silly woman's fault, he knew, but he had to get his thoughts in line before he fought, or he'd fall on his butt and make a fool of himself. 

He wasn't, of course, fighting any of his rivals. He'd been paired up with another particularly easy opponent. Oddly, the men who liked to drink and boast had been paired up against _each other_, while Syaoran couldn't see a single one of Daidouji-Champion's friends who didn't have an easy opponent -- himself included.

He felt a little chafed because of it, as if she didn't think he could hold his own against a strong opponent, and it made him attack hard and finish his match quickly. Finding himself done before the others, he turned toward the champion's fight. They had been delayed because her opponent was arguing.

"It's a setup! I know it is! You put me against her on purpose!"

Again, the biggest, meanest of the men was paired off with the champion. He looked nervous, obviously remembering how quickly his friend was beaten.

Syaoran privately thought that he had reason to look scared. One small spell had been all she had used last time, but it had been as effective as anyone could wish. She may not be a powerful sorceress, but she was smart and that made up for a lot of magic power.

"Of course you're fighting me on purpose." Her voice was soft and a small smile played around her mouth, but her eyes were chips of hard cold emerald. "We're weeding out the men," here she swept a hand as if graciously offering him a seat in the ring, "that we don't like."

The prince took a small step forward and subtly nudged the man into the ring -- but only if a nudge were a rough, one-handed shove -- while he pretended to be looking elsewhere.

Daidouji-Champion politely allowed the warrior to regain his balance and even prepare for an attack before blowing him out of the ring. The prince, though, looked unamused.

"One second of hesitation," Syaoran could hear him lecturing her as they walked toward the castle, "and the battle can turn on you. You _have_ to be more careful!" He quietly agreed but wouldn't have been able to say so -- her laughter, like cool water after a long day of training, made his tongue feel thick and his face feel as if he'd been practicing for hours on end. He would never be able to approach her like the prince did -- never be able to get on familiar terms with her. And his whole purpose for being here would fail.

Fail.

* * *

That evening, the number of men was a fourth of its first size and Syaoran was able to make out Kinomoto courtiers among the throng. They mostly left the warriors alone, but a few seemed to have deemed Syaoran worth talking to despite his obvious foreignness. 

One of these was the beautiful woman with long waves of dark hair who he first saw with Daidouji-Champion. She sparkled softly, smiling and speaking with him over her daintily-held glass of wine. Ale had been supplied for the warriors, but wine was in abundance for those of higher rank.

"The fights have been so exciting," she was saying in her soft, lilting voice, "especially the champion's. Don't you think she is the cutest champion ever?" She waited for him to agree before moving on. "Did you know that I made her costume? I wanted to make one for every day of the tournament, but she wouldn't let me." She put a pale hand to her cheek and looked desolate. "It would have been my greatest pleasure to make cute clothes for our cute champion."

He made a vague noise of assent, but didn't pursue the subject. Besides possibly being a little weird, this girl was close to the champion. Did that mean that he should get close to _her_?

Before he could come to a decision, a well-dressed woman with short red hair approached, throwing her long arms around the girl he was speaking to. "Tomoyo! Who is this handsome young man you've found?"

The girl smiled. "We were just getting acquainted, mother. We were speaking about the champion when you arrived. I was just about to seek his opinion of her."

The woman perked up. "Do tell!" she said, releasing her daughter and turning both eyes on Syaoran. "What _do_ you think of our cute champion?"

Syaoran was flustered and blushing, every muscle in him screaming to run rather than answer that one question.

At his continued silence and obvious discomfort, the older woman blinked, then realized something important. "I'm sorry -- I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Duchess Sonomi Daidouji." She shook his hand vigorously. "Cousin to the late queen."

"Ah!" her daughter said in dismay. "I forgot to introduce myself, as well. I get so distracted when I talk about our cute champion." She'd put her hand to her face again, but her confession had been so sweet and soft that he found himself nodding even though he'd been raised to understand the paramount importance of ettiquette. "I'm Lady Tomoyo Daidouji." She curtseyed, the motion so smooth that she didn't spill a drop of her wine.

His ears twitched. "Daidouji?" he asked. "Are you related to the champion? The only name she would give me was Daidouji."

The two women looked at each other, something being communicated that he didn't understand.

The daughter smiled at him. "She's our cousin. But I'm surprised she gave you any name -- she's not supposed to."

He looked at her quizzically. "Why is that?"

It seemed that she had said too much because she only shook her head and the two women moved away from the subject with polite and eloquent small-talk. Eventually, the conversation made its way to his bouts in the tournament.

"I wish they'd give me someone more challenging to fight tomorrow." If he didn't fight anyone worthy, he couldn't impress the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. "The two men I've had so far have been jokes."

"Have you requested someone difficult?" Lady Tomoyo asked, looking at him with steady, curious eyes over her cup. "I'm sure you would be readily obliged."

He glanced over at the people hurrying around the charts and grimaced. There were enough warriors and courtiers trying to ingratiate themselves with the king and prince that a moth couldn't fly between most of the bodies in that area of the dining hall. Unfortunately, this made their job of writing the charts even more laborious because people kept offering advice.

The princess, whom he was indifferent to, was still ill. Many of the warriors had expressed concern -- or thinly veiled anger -- at this delay in meeting her. She again sent her regards and well-wishes to her future husband, but this did little to allay the surge of negative emotions that Syaoran could see swinging to the fore.

All he could tell from her messages was that she seemed like a very kind, polite, and obedient girl.

Exactly the kind of girl that would bore Syaoran to tears.

His eyes moved to the champion, who was grimacing more than smiling under the jocular attentions of a few half-drunk warriors. Yue, he was glad to see, was standing very near them with the coldest and most disapproving look Syaoran had seen on him yet. This gave him heart and he started to consider going over there when he remembered that there were still two ladies he had not yet answered.

He smiled at them and apologized for letting his mind wander. "I think I will ask someone when the crowd thins a little. I'm sure a few spots can be shifted around."

It wasn't until a few hours later that the gaggle of men and women around the champion had moved off to their rooms, exhausted and ale-muddled. Syaoran felt bad for the warriors in the morning, having to fight with hangovers, but found that this was a perfect opportunity to catch the champion alone.

He managed to sidle up to her and give a soft cough. Yue was already staring down his aristocratic nose at him, but Syaoran did his best to ignore the taller man.

Daidouji-Champion turned, plastering a fake smile on her face even before she saw him. He noticed the weariness around her eyes and felt sympathy shoot through him like a razor. He promptly forgot what he was there for and touched her shoulder, but removed his hand at Yue's soft warning hiss. "Daidouji," he said, eyes steady as he studied her face. Her smile had relaxed into a genuine one when she'd recognized him and, though that made his heart leap a little in joy and hope, it didn't stop the worry that was already taking hold. "You should get some rest," he told her, trying to keep the obvious concern in his voice to a minimum (the last thing he needed was for her to realize immediately how madly in love he was with her and then to run screaming to the nearest guard). "You look exhausted. Are you eating well enough?"

She laughed a little, but the warmth that spread up his body from his fingertips at the sound didn't make its way into his face and his brow furrowed even more. "I'm okay, thank you. Just a little tired from staying up too late. I'll be fine."

Syaoran was worried. "You shouldn't be tiring yourself out when you're going to be fighting. Let the others do this work, you need to rest."

"That's what I've been telling her." The voice was deep and familiar, and Syaoran turned slightly to meet the eyes of the prince at his elbow. Those eyes were openly hostile as usual, but Syaoran detected two new things in that gaze. First, the barest lessening of hatred towards Syaoran. Second, a well-hidden but deeply-seated worry for the girl in front of him. He really did care about her and Syaoran, looking at the prince, felt his heart just slightly go out. _I'm sorry if I'm stealing your girl_, he offered in silence. _I really am. But I'm going to do it anyway._

After a few minutes of manly cajoling, in which Yue even offered his silvery persuading tongue ("Go to bed."), they managed to make the yawning, sleep-stumbling champion work her way to the stairs, beyond which Syaoran assumed was her room.

He left soon after, not remembering what he'd walked over there to do in the first place and not really caring.

* * *

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Thank you for all your wonderful support thus far! It's appreciated!


	6. Round Two

**Chapter 6: Round Two**

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* * *

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**AN: **Happy birthday to me . . . Nov. 6 makes me 21.

* * *

Syaoran was, of course, annoyed by the fact that he'd been such a dunderhead and had forgotten to ask for a harder opponent. Today, he was facing one of the few men that had been paired with someone equally weak in the first rounds.

He sighed and massaged his temple as the man postured. When the trumpet rang out, Syaoran darted forward and placed a kick in the middle of the man's chest. This both knocked the wind out of him and made him fly from the circle. Syaoran sighed as the woman marked down another worthless victory, and he turned toward the champion's fight.

She was just standing there while her opponent hurled himself against what seemed to be an invisible wall.

He hurried over and stood next to the young woman called Tomoyo, asking her what was happening.

"He withstood her Windy," she said, looking nervous.

"He did. I think it's his boots." The king had come up behind them so silently that Syaoran jumped at the sound of his voice, then blushed at his own reaction. "They must be weighted. Clever of him. She had to switch tactics because of it. She was prepared, though -- used Shield to protect herself and now she's waiting for him to get tired before she finishes him."

"How can she finish him if Windy doesn't work?" he asked, anxious.

The king smiled, a beneficent smile that put full faith in the young woman on the field. "She has more than just Windy, of course. A number of her spells aren't powerful, per-se, but pack quite a punch in the right situation."

It turned out that the king had sneaked a pun in without Syaoran noticing it, because pack quite a punch she did. They were close enough to hear her initiate another spell -- "Fight." After that, Syaoran couldn't have torn his eyes from her for all the gold in the kingdom. She was swift and silent, the whisper of her feet and the turning of her body like birdsong on a dewy morning -- pure, untainted poetry.

With a swift jab to the man's midsection, she toppled him over the line and claimed a victory. Her breathing was even and quick from exertion, but she was smiling as she approached them.

"Well done," the king said, giving her an exceptionally sweet smile.

Tomoyo threw herself forward, her arms reaching around the champion's neck. "I was so worried!" she cried. The champion grinned and blushed at the same time, letting out a surprised laugh, and her eyes came up to meet Syaoran's as if she could feel how steadily he was looking at her.

She smiled just for him, and he looked away -- embarrassed at the way his lips wanted to stretch up in return.

"I am impressed more and more every day," the king said, clapping his hands as Tomoyo released her blushing hostage.

The champion bowed, pink with pleasure. "Thank you."

"Yeah, not bad for a monster," came a taunting voice, and the champion's cheeks flushed red with anger. She glared at the man approaching.

Syaoran turned, watching the prince approach. He was striding forward, hands on his hips and teasing smile on his lips. He was obviously very proud of her.

"I'm not a monster!" she protested when he was nearer.

"Sure, monster," Touya replied, handsome and tall in his dark, diamond-studded clothes.

She tried to stamp on his foot, but he moved it and instead swept her into a bear hug, grinning. Her anger melted, and she smiled as he murmured into her hair, too low for anyone else to hear, "Don't get hurt, okay?"

"Okay," she replied softly, and they were both smiling when they parted.

Syaoran felt like his head was stuffed with cotton and his heart with knives. Everyone was looking at the two with tenderness and adoration, but his face was hot with jealousy and his heart stabbed through with pain. He'd said he would steal her even if she was the prince's, but . . . they loved each other. Even he could see it, plain as day. The prince ruffling her hair and her straightening it with a scowl. The prince laughing as he walked away, smiling in the satisfaction of knowing she loved him. . . . Syaoran would smile like that, too, if he knew that she loved him. If only . . .

He hadn't expected her to already love someone. Maybe . . . maybe it was better that he didn't try for her. Maybe . . . he should walk away.

It was at this gloomy moment that Tomoyo turned and brought attention onto him. "What did you think, Syaoran Li?" Her eyes were laughing but her face was composed. She had seen the emotions in his eyes when her cute champion fought and when she had been hugged. On meeting her gaze, Syaoran saw that she understood him better than he wanted her to, and he decided that the twinkle in her eye was a sign of the devil if ever he'd seen one.

"It was a good fight," he stuttered out, flushing red and rearing back as if that could get him away from her.

She only smiled and turned, inviting him by her posture to walk back to the castle with her and the champion, who was on her other side and looking at him curiously. So he fell into step, supremely uncomfortable, but grateful for the chance to be so near Daidouji-Champion. He was grateful for and resentful of Tomoyo at the same time, because she kept the conversation flowing easily, but she also kept him from talking directly to the champion.

There was no way he could speak to her alone, anyhow, with Yue looming always near her, but it seemed that Yue would not be such an inconvenient buffer as Tomoyo was.

"Did you get a more difficult opponent, Syaoran Li?" Tomoyo was asking. He had forgotten that she knew about that.

"No," he blushed a little, looking down at where his feet were going and not into the inquisitive gaze of the champion. "I . . . forgot to ask."

She persisted. "But I saw you go over to ask last night." Here she turned to her cousin. "Did he not ask you for a more difficult opponent last night after dinner? His have been too easy."

Daidouji-Champion looked at his averted eyes and tense shoulders, remembering what had happened when he spoke to her the night before, and said, "No." Her voice was soft and he could feel her eyes on him.

"Well, he can do it now. Can't you?" Tomoyo smiled at him and he wished his face would cool.

Before he could say anything, though, the champion laughed and put a hand on her cousin's shoulder. "I think you've already asked for him, Tomoyo," she said. "Don't make him repeat it."

And he knew he loved her.

"Oh, there is my mother!" Tomoyo said, sparkling and waving a little. "Let me go say hello. You can get to the castle yourselves?"

"Bye!" the champion called after her. Syaoran was silent because he could swear that he did not see Duchess Daidouji anywhere.

After a few moments walking in silence, before they were to the castle but after they had passed a few courtiers, she spoke to him. "I want to thank you for last night." She held her hands tight in front of her and did not look at him as she spoke. "Few people would be so concerned about me." A small cough from behind them made her turn and smile. "Let me rephrase. Few people participating in this tournament would be concerned about my health and welfare." Here she gave Syaoran a mischievous look, her green eyes flashing in the sunlight. "Yue always cares. He's really a big softie."

"I am not soft." Yue's voice made Syaoran shiver -- not from its tone, but from its quality. He spoke with simple matter-of-factness, but his pale, quiet voice was filled with power and cleverness and danger. While Tomoyo's voice was quiet and sweet, his was soft and deadly like falling snow. More than that, it was all the active things that snow could do -- it was frostbite and hypothermia made sound.

How that made Daidouji-Champion smile again, he did not know. She was not frightened or intimidated by this towering sorcerer (Syaoran had been unsure before, but this close he could feel the waves of power coming off of Yue -- so he followed the evidence to its most logical conclusion). He was surprised and intrigued. Did this mean she was more powerful than he thought?

* * *

That afternoon, the champion provided entertainment. She made a glow fall over the castle and produced a singer so heartbreaking that even the rowdiest of the visitors were temporarily stunned to silence. 

Syaoran noticed that the champion slipped out while everyone was distracted, and he followed her. Outside was a balcony, the glow falling and staining everything with soft light.

Daidouji-Champion was near the railing, trying to persuade Yue to do something. She was laughing and smiling and holding one of his hands in hers, as if pleading with him. But her cheeks were so stained with humor that he knew immediately not to worry.

Yue was looking reluctant, a grimace on his beautiful face.

"Please, Yue? It's not half as fun to do alone. I don't feel so stupid with a partner."

Yue looked long-suffering. "'If it were anyone but you, I would not," he said and put a long-fingered hand to his head. "Fine."

And then something very odd happened that made Syaoran sink deeper into the shadows and stand riveted.

They grew wings.

"The singing is so pretty tonight," Daidouji-Champion said as they rose into the air, and that was the last Syaoran could hear from either of them. He watched them waltz in the air, Yue distant and silent even when pulling the champion close. The champion . . . was a young girl again. Not a warrior or sorceress, but a girl who could laugh and dance and have fun. She produced her own glow in the night sky, apart from the small lights that flitted around them. Their wings twitched and fluttered and they moved with grace in an airborne pattern of dance.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Syaoran turned to the unexpected woman, knowing who it was before he saw the long dark hair that melted into the shadows. "Yes," he said, looking back up.

"She gets him to do this every now and then," Tomoyo continued, her voice low. "He's the only other one who can dance in the air. Technically, Kerberos could, but he's not a great partner."

"Kerberos?" Syaoran's eyes never left the couple in the air, but he gave his ear to the woman beside him.

"Another royal guardian." She brushed it off, and they were silent a little more. After a few minutes, she spoke up again. "I think he's been worried about her. She's never had to fight this much at once, and this tournament is dangerous. Most people didn't want her to be champion -- the royal family particularly protested -- but she insisted that this was her heart's desire. And how could they argue with that?"

"It wasn't their idea to let her fight?"

He heard Tomoyo shake her head. "Of course not." Another thoughtful pause. "Yue was also against it, though she'd managed to persuade Kerberos it was the best idea.

"Yue doesn't show emotions well, but she can read him better than anyone. She always looks a little guilty around him, like she's trying to apologize for doing this."

Syaoran frowned. "I hadn't noticed."

Tomoyo shook her head again, and he heard a smile in her voice. "I've made it a point to notice everything having to do with S--_her_--since we were children."

He did look at her now. "You care about her very much."

She smiled, and her look was a little inquisitive. "So do you, even though you barely know her."

He looked away -- not up, just away. "You noticed."

She tilted her head to the side and spread her hands. Her voice echoed in his head, _I've made it a point to notice everything having to do with her._

Laughter rang out and they turned. Fluttering wings sounded as the pair landed on the balcony. The champion was out of breath and Yue was watching to see if he needed to steady her.

"You looked beautiful," Tomoyo said, stepping forward and clapping a little. "You are so graceful in the air." Her smile was in place and happy.

"Thank you, Yue." She smiled up at the tall man and he gave the barest of nods, folding his arms as his wings faded away. But the pink flush of exercise was high on his cheekbones and he gave the smallest, sweetest of smiles at her beaming face.

"Touya told me to rest. He's worried about Yukito," Yue told the two women, his voice floating like cool mist through the air. "I believe that I will retire now. You will be safe?" He looked at Daidouji-Champion and she beamed at him.

"Yes," she replied and threw her arms around his waist, burying her face in his jacket. "And thank you."

He smiled again and touched her hair. Syaoran suddenly felt uneasy at being there, as if he were spying on something very private, and he looked away. "Of course."

When he was gone, Tomoyo took her cousin by the elbow and walked, white arm in white arm, toward Syaoran. He wanted to dart away into the safety of the corridors inside, but he couldn't move without being seen.

"You were very graceful. I felt such joy in being able to watch you." Their faces were sweet and round in the glow around them. "Isn't that right, Syaoran Li?"

Daidouji-Champion's head turned in his direction as he moved from the shadows, both of them startled and a little embarrassed. He merely bowed in answer.

"I was telling him what a wonderful dancer you are," Tomoyo was continuing, not seeming to notice the averted eyes and blushing faces of the man and woman beside her. "But I'm sure he saw for himself." She snuck looks at the pair. "Oh!" she suddenly cried, waving at someone inside, "there's my mother. I should go see what she wants -- you can stay here." And she trotted off and left them, smiling her cheerful smile.

"I'm sorry for intruding," he said after a moment's awkward silence.

She stumbled over herself to make him feel better, jumbling her words until she finally came out with, "It's okay, really."

He did feel better to know that she didn't hate him. And the way her eyes got large and round, sparkling in the glow falling around them, so eager to make him feel better . . . it made him want to . . . to do something . . . stupid . . .

He leaned forward, taking her gently by the shoulders. She'd gotten closer in her haste to put him at ease, and now he leaned in, not sure what exactly he was trying to do. He just knew that her hair smelled sweet and her lips looked soft . . .

She looked uncertain as they hovered close to each other, and that made him pause, thinking maybe he should get away from her intoxicating presence while he could . . .

"_What the_ hell _are you doing to my sister!?_" The voice was deep and shattering, making the pair jump away from each other. Daidouji-Champion was staring in horror at the young man storming toward them, but Syaoran couldn't take his eyes from her face -- because he knew that voice. And if she was _his_ sister . . .

"Touya," she pleaded softly, giving a small shake of her head to ward him off. Tomoyo came hurrying up after him, sensing trouble.

The prince of the Kinomoto Kingdom promptly got in Syaoran's face, repeating in a hiss, "What. The. Hell. Were. You. Doing. To. My. _Sister_."

The obvious answer was "I was trying to kiss her," but Syaoran was neither foolhardy nor brazen enough to actually say anything. Instead, he looked at the girl.

She was talking to Tomoyo. "Did anyone else hear?"

"No," Tomoyo was saying, looking deeply concerned. "I'm sure of it -- they're all drunk and someone had just told a joke -- and Touya didn't speak loudly at all."

"Sakura?" Syaoran asked, and her luminous eyes raised to his, emotions running like water through them. She was mostly embarrassed, but he saw hints of frustration and yearning underneath, as if she wished that they had been able to finish what they'd started.

So did he, but he didn't have time to think on it because a strong fist had suddenly picked him up by his shirtfront and slammed him into the rock wall of the castle. "That's _Princess_ Sakura to you."

Syaoran felt his body reacting before he could stop it, arms coming up and breaking the prince's hold, sliding into a defensive stance. The prince mimicked him, using a Japanese style that Syaoran was only faintly familiar with.

Neither of them noticed the dark-haired girl flying into the great hall, searching frantically for someone, until a worried voice came to them. Soon, richly-clad arms encircled the girl and pulled Touya away. "What's going on?" the king asked them, looking more concerned than angry. "Tomoyo said that there was trouble."

"This guy thought he could take liberties with Sakura," Touya growled, glaring Syaoran down even as Syaoran glared back. "Where is Yue?" he shot over his shoulder.

"I let him go to bed," she replied, shaking slightly in her father's arms.

The king understood several things at once. The first was that this young man now knew that the champion was the princess -- something they didn't want anyone to know yet. The second was that Touya, his somewhat overprotective son, had walked in on something he was not likely to forgive anytime soon -- a man noticing that Sakura was a beautiful woman and acting on it.

"Let's go inside and talk about this, then." He'd noticed a few warriors coming out since Tomoyo had taken him away so hastily. "Touya?" he said, and his son turned to him, still keeping an eye on the young man as he did so. "Would you go get Yukito and Kerberos and meet us in the blue room?"

He didn't seem happy with the job, not wanting to let the young man out of his sight, but complied. They watched him trot out of sight, then the king turned and beckoned for them to follow him. This they did without a word, all the way into the hall, then the corridors, and eventually into the very farthest visiting room in the castle.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," the king invited Syaoran as the ladies took chairs -- Sakura clenching her hands in her lap and Tomoyo putting her hand over the princess' to steady her. "I want to have a word with you before my son gets back. Please, both of you, tell me what happened."

This was more embarrassing a command than any Syaoran had ever been given by his mother. His eyes flitted away, landing on Tomoyo's understanding face.

"I left them alone, my uncle," she said, holding Sakura's cold hands in her own, "because he loves her."

The king's eyebrows flew up at this and he turned to his daughter. "Is this true?"

She was looking at Syaoran. "I did not know."

"I do," he said, affirming it but not looking at anyone. "You asked me once why I was in the tournament if I did not want to win." He turned his face toward her but did not lift his eyes. "It was so I could be close to you." This was almost a whisper and took every ounce of his willpower to utter.

A long silence, then, "I see. Now tell me this and it will be all: Is there any reason Touya should be angry?"

"Nothing happened . . . but it would not have been against my will," Sakura murmured, not able to look up either.

"Nothing happened," the king repeated.

"No, nothing." Her face was anxious and she met her father's kind eyes.

"Okay," he sat back and opened his mouth, but the door burst open and a small yellow rocket shot itself toward the princess.

"Sakura! Are you alright?!"

She laughed -- the first time since she had finished dancing with Yue. "I'm fine, Kero. There's nothing to be worried about." She held the small animal close to her and Syaoran looked at him curiously. It seemed like a tiny doll with wings -- and a loud mouth.

"Sakura," another man greeted, his voice soft and warm like a summer breeze or the smell of cookies baking. It was a comforting sound. "I heard you were attacked. Are you all right?"

"I was not attacked, but thank you for your concern." She smiled so sweetly at the man that Syaoran felt like shooting him a glare, but the idea had less appeal under the kind manner of the king.

"I thought Touya might have exaggerated things again," the man said, soft laughter in his voice and gentle humor in the look he sent the glowering prince.

"There is no 'again,'" the prince grumbled, "the jerk tried to kiss her. I was doing what any concerned sibling would."

"Is that all?" The laughter in the man's voice was very gentle and the prince seemed to be soothed by it. "I thought someone had tried to kill her. So who is her suitor?" He looked around and his eyes fell on Syaoran, who was watching them. "Ah, am I right in assuming?" He gave a bow and Syaoran stood and bowed back. "I am Yukito, a friend of the royal family."

"You _are_ family," Sakura interrupted and he shot her a sweet look.

"Syaoran Li." He said it simply and without any real flourish.

"You are in time to hear what I have decided," the king told them. "Please sit." Yukito only sat after the prince did, remaining very near to hand. "Sakura is to go nowhere unchaperoned. I am very distressed that she was left alone with a stranger -- worse things can happen than being kissed." Sakura buried her head in her lap, groaning with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Sakura, but it's true. You have to be careful with all of these men around. It would kill me if anything happened to you."

"I know," she whispered, nodding for him to go on and making herself face it.

"We have to, however, get Li's cooperation in keeping this secret." He turned to Syaoran. "We did this in order for her to remove unacceptable prospective husbands from the tournament. We also want a man who can appreciate Sakura's power and perhaps match it. To prevent fortune-hunters tricking her, we decided that the contestants should not know who she is while she fights.

"Our own courtiers, some of whom are participating, do know who she is but are under the strictest of promises not to let her identity slip. These men cannot fool Sakura as strangers could because she has known them all of her life.

"What I want to know from you, Syaoran Li, is what your intentions are toward my daughter and whether you will keep her identity secret."

Syaoran sat for a long moment, silent. At length, he spoke. "My intentions on entering the tournament were to win the hand of the champion. In that respect, they are still the same. However, my methods of achieving that have obviously had to alter. Before, I _could not_ win the tournament if I wanted to achieve my goal. Now I must. Though this makes it harder on me, I am glad I found out.

"As for telling anyone about who the champion really is, you must see that it is an advantage for me if they do not know. My original plans to get to know Sakura would have put me at an advantage anyway, though not in the way I expected. I plan to continue my first inclinations but with a different strategy in light of this new information."

"Then we will trust you to be honorable." The king rose and gestured for Sakura to take his arm. "That's all. Tomoyo, will you and Kero lead Syaoran Li back to the dining hall?"

Tomoyo bowed.

"Thank you."

Syaoran decided, as the princess' eyes flickered up to meet his as she passed him, that all of the embarrassment was worth it. Because he saw, in the brief flash of green, a curiosity and wonder that buoyed his spirits. While she was still uncertain as to her own feelings, she was warming to him.

He had a chance.

* * *

**Touya's** uncharacteristic hug came out of his intense worry for her safety. Because of this, he was a little more demonstrative. 

**Sakura** was clueless in the anime and has been somewhat clueless here. Now she's very aware of Syaoran.

**Yue:**

In the show, Yue is sometimes cold and silent (like the first fight against him and the Kero's bath episode where he never said anything or smiled but cleaned up the mess when they weren't looking), and I think he only really smiles once (or twice?) in the anime . . . But he does care. I'm trying (note _trying_, which doesn't imply success) to find that balance of faithfulness and stoicism. Here I let him show his softer side -- one which, I think, he wouldn't want to show in public. Which is why I've had him be so cold in other chapters -- there were always other people around. As for his dialogue, I'm heavily leaning on the episode where Yukito and Yue are worried about Sakura and Yukito says "Yue says he is very worried." and Yue appears and says "I didn't say 'very.'" That quality seems to imply that while he does care very much, he's not into excess of emotion or showing it often.

I hope this all works together and doesn't look like I'm breaking Yue's personality up too sharply. I'm running on the assumption that he will act differently in different situations.

As for Yue's voice, I was trying to describe the Japanese voice actor, who has a very soft, somewhat scary voice. It was an effort to blend the voice's somewhat subzero qualities with the complexities of his personality. Again, I'm not sure how well I pulled it off.

And I'm sorry, Kero fans, for not having him more. He'll play a minor role in this story but I do love him too. Hopefully, he'll have more time if I do other CCS stories.

**Reviews make me happy!**


	7. Round Three

**Chapter 7: Round Three**

The matches were no longer held at the same time. The competitors had been reduced to sufficient numbers for them to have fights one after another during the day on the large field, stopping only for lunch and dinner, and continuing until night fell or all were finished. This afforded fighters the luxury of studying one another, but made it nearly impossible to knock their opponent past the much larger boundaries of the field, thus depriving them of a popular and useful technique.

This also meant longer fights and more injuries.

If Syaoran thought he would be disappointed again in the morning, he was sorely mistaken. Whether the royal family wanted him out of the tournament as soon as possible now that he was a liability or Sakura had taken his request for a harder opponent to heart, he found himself facing the biggest, meanest-looking warrior he'd seen in a long time.

The man opposite him had a black eye and several old scars on his face. He sneered at Syaoran, a few of his scars twitching, and took up a stance.

Syaoran, while they waited for the trumpet blast, felt many pairs of eyes on his back. He knew that the royal family was watching him with more interest now that he'd given them his intentions. He hoped that he could present himself honorably and well.

When the trumpet-blast sounded, neither of the men attacked immediately. Instead, they circled each other, looking for weaknesses. As they did this, the rest of the world seemed to drop away and the swaying of the grass whispered victory.

Syaoran hadn't told any of the men but Fuku that he hadn't intended to win, so he didn't have to explain his change of heart. With a wolfish smile, he slid into a defensive stance to let his opponent take the first move. It was only a hesitant moment before the other man did.

His joints seemed oiled with honey and cream, he moved so smoothly and sweetly to avoid the first blow. His own attacks sang with the strength that was born of love and desire -- he was no longer fighting to impress her, he was fighting to win her, and that made a significant difference in the way he moved and struck.

He was swift, skilled, and there was no room for mistakes. In only minutes -- maybe it was moments -- the trumpet blast announced the end of the fight. He had won.

He bowed to his opponent, who scowled and spat while lifting himself from the ground, then walked back toward the stands. Syaoran could see the royal family clapping politely, the king and Sakura smiling at him. The prince only looked disgruntled -- his claps were slow and forced.

Several of the other warriors faced off, their fights more intense and grueling, lumbering masses of muscle and sweat. There were a few Syaoran noted as dangerous -- a slender youth with fast reflexes and a larger man that seemed to have studied under a master. Both of them defeated their opponents quickly, using cunning as much as power and skill.

Finally, it was time for her. Hers was the last match of the day, something Syaoran was sure they did on purpose.

The glowing coal-red sky burnished her hair and stained her clothing as the wind played across her. Somehow, the movement of her clothes and hair made the stillness of her body seem absolute, and her eyes were fathomless and solemn as she watched her opponent approach.

With the blast of the trumpet, she drew her fingers through the air as if through the water of a still pond and it seemed to ripple before her. Her lips made the barest movement as she whispered, and the wind snaked out toward her opponent. It was slow and tentative, not at all her usual rapid-fire technique -- but there was no small circle for her to flick him out of, and she seemed very conscious of this.

He seemed prepared for Windy and moved rapidly to his right, dodging the magic and rolling under it. He managed to gain several feet on her, but she neither blinked nor moved back, only murmured another spell so that his fists glanced off of an invisible shield instead of striking her. He moved back, ready to dart to the side the moment she unleashed her next spell, but she only stood there and watched him with appraising eyes -- as if trying to decide what to do.

"She doesn't want to hurt him."

Li turned to the prince, who was watching the battle narrowly, and then looked back at the quiet, still figures on the field. "What do you mean?"

"She's never hurt anyone in her life, and I'll be damned if she's not trying to find the safest way to disqualify him. She needs to just blow him up or something and be done with it."

Blow him up? "She can do that?" Li asked, alarmed.

"Do what?" The prince was irritated.

"Blow a man up? Is it a spell that inflates someone?"

The prince shook his head without taking his eyes off the battle, making his bangs fly into his face. "It's a figure of speech. I mean that she should just finish it and stop toying with the poor guy." He paused. "Not to say that I don't enjoy watching him being slowly crushed. It just makes me nervous for her to take so long."

"There she goes," Tomoyo said, stepping forward with her hands clutched against her breast and her eyes shining. Syaoran was standing conspicuously with the royal family, earning himself several dirty looks from the other warriors.

"For the love of God," Touya muttered, rolling his eyes as he realized the spell she'd used. "Could she get any softer?"

"It's her way," Tomoyo retorted in a rebuke so gentle it might have been a caress.

Li was staring at the field in bemusement. "What spell is that?" he asked the prince.

Touya's lips were twisted in a sardonic smile. "Float," he replied. True to the name of the spell, the man touched by it was bouncing gently toward them, rolling a little in the air as he tried to understand exactly what was happening to him. "That," he told Syaoran in a low voice, "is my insane sister. You still like her?"

Syaoran smiled. "I like that she solved the matter in a peaceful way. Blood should never be drawn if it can be helped."

Touya snorted and watched the befuddled warrior touch ground, staggering like a man too long at sea. He was now outside the fighting area and the trumpet was blown to announce the winner.

* * *

At dinner, Syaoran found himself talking to Tomoyo and her mother again, but there was a palpable undercurrent of understanding between the three. Syaoran found that they were perfectly willing to tell him about Sakura -- enthusiastic, even, to extol her virtues. 

"He's going to think I'm a saint."

Syaoran had seen her come up behind the other two women, arms across her midsection and goblet in hand. Her head was set at a self-conscious tilt, but she laughed and smiled as they made room for her in their circle, joining the conversation with ease. While the other two women were busy agreeing with each other on something, she snuck a look under her bangs at Syaoran. She blushed and looked away when she saw that he was looking at her, but the impression of his steady, kind gaze stayed with her and made her a little breathless.

"Tell me something that you _can't_ do."

She looked up into his eyes -- he was smiling at her -- and wished she hadn't. It made a weird floating sensation appear in her stomach and her mind went blank.

"It would be comforting to know that you're not perfect at everything." His eyes were laughing a little now, as if he knew what was going through her mind, but there was a blush staining his cheeks at his own impertinence. _Am I really teasing the princess?_

"I'm not," she protested, but didn't have enough air to put any force behind it. "I'm not perfect." She searched for something, trying to force her way past the strange blockage that wanted to pull up from her heart and fill her throat. "I'm horrible at math. And I'm not a great singer -- that would be Tomoyo." She turned to beam at her friend, relieved as the attention moved off of her.

"I don't think I've heard you sing," he said politely to Tomoyo, smiling in a friendly fashion.

"You did." Touya had come up to them, holding his own goblet and watching Syaoran through the same narrowed eyes with which he watched his sister fight. "Yesterday evening -- the song spell uses Tomoyo's voice." While Syaoran thought about this, he turned to Sakura. "Yukito is in bed -- he does nothing but sleep and eat these days. Even getting up the other night was hard for him."

"Doesn't he do nothing but eat anyway?" Lady Sonomi chuckled, but she silenced at the prince's unamused look.

"He's tired," he told Sakura. "Abnormally so -- even though he's not had to do much, staying transformed all the time is taking a toll on his body."

Her eyes were dark with concern as she looked back at her brother. "Should I use Kero tomorrow?"

The prince nodded. "It would be good to give him a break."

She smiled and nodded. "Okay. And thank you for telling me. I know he would never complain, so I'm glad you kept an eye on him."

Touya smiled. "You're not the only one who cares, monster."

She glared at him but refrained from stepping on his foot since they were in public. "Good night, Touya," she growled, expecting him to go, but he only raised his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to bed until you do. Someone," he said, shooting a look at Tomoyo who blushed and looked guilty, "has to make sure you stay chaperoned."

"_Touya!_" Sakura blushed, making a subtle attempt of stomping on him which he evaded.

But Syaoran was a few sentences back. "Yukito transforms? That fellow I met last night?"

The royal children stopped squabbling and turned to look at him blankly. He met their gazes and tilted his head, inquisitive.

"We should take this outside," Tomoyo murmured. They had already drawn some attention when the champion joined them, but when Touya had ambled over more and more eyes and ears started turning their way. Touya had kept his voice low concerning his friend, but it would be impossible to keep anything else quiet with the attention they were gathering.

"Yukito," Sakura whispered when they were outside, taking Syaoran's arm and leaning close to him as the others gathered around them at the railing, "is Yue. Not many people know this -- not even my own courtiers -- and it's important to keep it quiet." She took a deep breath and glanced up into Syaoran's eyes to gauge his reaction. What she saw there bolstered her. "He can stay transformed for long periods of time, but three days in a row is kind of rough. Yukito, being human and weaker, shows the strain more than Yue does -- he can't help falling asleep and he's always hungry. He's trying to replenish the energy that Yue uses up."

"But Yue doesn't really do anything on the field. How can he be using up magic?"

Sakura bit her lip. "He's never stayed transformed for this long. Yue needs a lot more energy to just _be _than Yukito does -- so --"

"Yue's _being_," Touya interrupted, finishing her uncertain thought, "is taking up Yukito's reserve energy stores. And by staying transformed from early until late at night, Yukito doesn't have enough time to replenish them. It's only a matter of time before he burns out." He looked displeased at having to tell Syaoran this, but Syaoran was too deep in thought to notice.

"Wouldn't the men be suspicious if your guard suddenly had to take a day off? It might imply weakness."

Sakura bit her lip again, but this time he noticed it and flushed. He knew he shouldn't stare at her lips with three other people looking at them, but he couldn't help himself . . .

"You can let go now," Touya growled at them both. Sakura was still hanging onto the guy's arm, and she jumped when she noticed.

"Sorry," she blushed. He only looked away and shrugged, both of them awkward. Syaoran was pulsing with the need to kiss her, and Sakura was pulsing with embarrassment. Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

Finally, Syaoran shook his head. "I should go to bed. Tomorrow will be a long day." But as he turned, he found himself being grabbed from behind and yanked back, off balance. Soon, the prince had him by his shirtfront, and Syaoran had to fight every instinct to strike out and free himself.

"You aren't going to tell _anyone_ about this, right? Because if you do, I'll kill you myself." His eyes were fierce and black in the darkness, not their usual sparkling brown.

"I'm not an idiot," Syaoran said through slightly gritted teeth. Despite himself, he was glaring back. "I know I can't win her if I betray the people she loves."

Touya let him go reluctantly and watched him go. "I really hate that guy," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Sakura had watched him leave too, but didn't say anything to this. Tomoyo, watching her, smiled a little. "I think you're the only one here who does, Touya," she murmured, and the princess turned to blink at her.

"Hm?"

Tomoyo and Sonomi left, laughing.

Sakura watched them go, confused, then turned to her brother. "I was thinking about what he said," she told the still-frowning Touya. His eyes turned on her and softened. He just couldn't glare at his sister. She, however, didn't notice this. "Yue's absence would be conspicuous, and I don't know how the competitors would take it."

"But you agreed that he needed to rest."

"Yes, yes," she soothed, seeing that he was getting worked up. "I don't mean to drag him out of bed. But it might be good to make it look like he's there. To have a decoy."

"Ah." His eyes widened a little as he understood.

The siblings smiled at each other in the cool night breeze -- neither, for once, thinking about Syaoran Li.

* * *

The warriors were kept in the guest servant quarters -- a large room with lots of beds that was well-warmed by heating grates. It was too early in the year for the fires to be lit within the grates -- even though the nights were still a bit cold, the body heat at night made the room almost warmer than it was in the daytime. 

Syaoran had a hard time falling asleep at night until all the other men did, so he was awake and sitting against a wall with his chin resting on his chest when the other men approached him. His eyes were closed and his breathing even, but he could hear their clumsy attempts to be quiet.

The first hand that reached for him to shake him awake was twisted and pulled so that the owner fell face-forward onto the ground at Syaoran's feet. He was soon standing with his foot on the offender's wrist and his eyes scrutinizing the rest of the men from under his bangs.

"What?" he ground out, interpreting the looks in their eyes as trouble.

No one else tried to touch him, which was just as well because he was ready to rip their arms off for trying. But they did speak, hurling insults and warnings at him, and the few things he caught led him to believe that they were angry about his cozy evening with the champion and the prince.

"If you have a problem with me," Syaoran cut through, glaring at them, "then take it out on the field. Choose somebody to fight me, and I'll meet him in fair combat tomorrow. I'm sure they'd allow a last-minute schedule change."

There was some low muttering and shifting and he thought that the matter was taken care of until one of the men stepped forward with a grim smile. "No, your lordship," he gave a mock bow. Syaoran knew that he was fairly identifiable as foreign nobility, but this startled him all the same. "We think this should be taken care of now. We don't like rich foreigners messing too much with our women. We think a local man should win this."

"So," another said, stepping beside his friend, "we're going to get rid of you. Tonight."

Syaoran didn't move back, even though unease was furling rapidly in his stomach. He only ground his foot on the wrist beneath him, halting the defeated man's pathetic move to get away, then shifted his feet as he saw the tensing of muscles before him, controlling his breath. On the first movement in the group before him, he used his right leg to propel him -- backwards. He landed high on the wall and used it as a springboard to hurl himself over the heads of the men surrounding him. He landed with bended knees, ignoring the shock of impact that tried to jar his body and make him fall over, and tore the amulet from around his neck, concentrating as he ran straight through the rest of the men in the hall and feeling the comforting weight of his sword as it appeared in his hand. Those he charged through fell back, avoiding the glint of steel, but they would long remember the hard, savage determination in the eyes of the man passing them.

He wasn't running away from the fight -- he was just moving to higher ground. He needed to be outside where he could use magic without worrying about hitting bystanders or setting the room on fire.

Where they got swords between the guest servant's hall and the training field, Syaoran only suspected, though he knew that they weren't allowed to wield them until the second part of the tournament was underway, and they _certainly _weren't supposed to have them in the living area. But Syaoran had already surmised that many of the men had their weapons hidden somewhere near them -- no true warrior would be caught without some kind of defense in a hostile situation like this.

The men were spread out because some were faster than others, so Syaoran met the first few with a grim smile, letting his steel speak for him.

He didn't kill them. He knew, though, that these first few men wouldn't be able to finish the tournament. It gave him a sinking sort of satisfaction. He, as yet, didn't know how the royal family would react to this late-night expedition-- but if he got away with it, there would be a few less contestants on the morrow.

He had time to stretch briefly before the second round got there -- he needed his blood to move swiftly through his veins and his muscles to be long and loose. Because, he mused as the next set of men fell upon him, this would be a long, rough night.

* * *

**AN:** I'd like to thank SibylSofiana for recommending a really good CCS fic in her review. Everyone, please feel free to recommend things to me, since I haven't been reading CCS for too long.(Along with any comments you may have about this story, of course!) And I'd like to thank everyone for reviewing and encouraging me. Reviews remind me that taking tests and copying notes aren't the only things I need to be doing! 


	8. Round Four

**Chapter 8: Round Four**

**

* * *

**

**AN:** Someone said they wanted to sleep with chapter seven.

Well . . . look out for paper cuts, okay?

**Touya and Yukito** have an ambiguous relationship in this fic. So you can decide what you want them to be. I think it's important that, while I'm not going to make them romantic in any of my stories, I represent them as close as I found them to be in the anime. I'm not going to be a whiny squeamish brat and make them Americanized buddies, but I'm also not going to write them as overtly romantic because of my religious views on that sort of thing.

You probably didn't care about any of that. Anyway, please enjoy!

* * *

Sakura woke to the clanging of steel and shouting voices just after midnight. Running blearily to her balcony, she saw the castle guards racing toward the training field where the tournament was being held - but this was the middle of the night and no one should be out there. 

Anger and fear leaking adrenaline into her veins, Sakura leapt from the balcony railing, whispering "Fly" almost as an afterthought. If the warriors were rebelling, then it was her family's stupidity that got them into the castle in the first place, and it would be their fault if any of the guards got hurt. But if they were rebelling, they wouldn't have taken the fight outside, would they?

Her confusion and fear fed her anger. Whatever the cause, they weren't supposed to brawl amongst themselves – it was a cause for immediate dismissal from the tournament.

Wait – were those _swords_? Where the hell did they . . .

Eyes wide, she swooped low over the mass of men and cried out to them. "Stop it! Stop it NOW!" The guards, she could see, had corralled the stragglers and were trying to calm the fighters. The warriors below her seemed to slow and several stopped to look up at her appearance.

She descended furiously into their midst.

Syaoran almost lost a finger when he saw her, shining white in the moonlight. Her nightgown flickered around her, far too little for a woman to wear in company even if it had yards of fabric all around her. Her wings allowed her precise control over her movement. Her feet were bare and graceful as she touched the cold ground, and Syaoran almost knelt in front of her, so awed was he. Everyone had stopped fighting by now, but he kept his senses open for surprise attacks, panting a little and rubbing the sheen of sweat away that was starting to trickle into his eyes.

"Who," she said in a low, dangerous voice like liquid flame, "started this?"

A few of the men shifted, but none stepped forward. They all knew the penalty for fighting amongst themselves.

Finally, Syaoran moved forward with a sigh, the men in front of him parting and looking nervous as the white winged champion turned to watch him approach her. Her expression was slightly stunned. "Syaoran Li?" she asked, a little breathless in her surprise.

He knelt before her, bowing his head low before standing again. Even then, he did not look her in the eye but gazed at her feet. "Forgive your humble servant and his friends, my lady. We had thought," here he grimaced as if mildly embarrassed at himself, "that a bit of sparring might prove useful to sharpen our skills with the sword, as that part of the tournament is quickly approaching." He looked around, grazing past a few eyes and giving the silent message that none of them were to contradict his story. "We had not intended," he turned back to her and looked contrite, "to wake anyone up. And though it is always the supremest of pleasures to see you, I must confess that I am sorry to have disturbed your rest." On "pleasures," he took her hand and bent over it, letting his eyes soften just for her, concentrating on how much he loved her and how beautiful she was so that he might translate that sincerity into his gaze. When he finished speaking, he kissed her hand.

When he stood up again, he knew from the self-conscious posture and light blush on her cheeks that none of them would be going home that night. "Oh," she breathed, her voice smaller, "I suppose that's all right. But if you're going to spar again," she frowned a little but looked more flushed than angry, "please let someone know so that this doesn't happen again."

"Of course," Syaoran agreed, looking around for agreement. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say that it won't happen again." There was a glint in his eye that was less than friendly as he perused the other men, reminding them of their friends that lay unconscious or bleeding already from Syaoran's defensive maneuvers – men that would not be able to continue in the tournament. He decided that most of them got the point, but he would have to keep an eye on the rest.

"Okay." She was breathless and her body wavered as if she would both like to go and stay at the same time, and an endearing smile played around her mouth. "I guess . . . um . . ."

He smiled indulgently. "We'll clean this up. You need your rest." He bowed and watched her turn away.

"Good night." Most of the guards went with her but a few stayed to see that the injured warriors got back to the castle, shaking their heads at the damage on some of the men.

No one really spoke until they were back in the servants' hall and the guards had left.

"Thank you," one of the men offered, but his eyes widened as Syaoran rounded to glare him down.

"Don't you – _any _of you – think that I did that to save your hides. I did it for me – I'm not about to get thrown out of this tournament just because you can't control your impulse to kill foreigners. No, I'm going to make it my personal duty to make sure all of you lose. If that means I have to fight each and every one of you myself, fine." He whirled around, knowing he'd just made enemies of men who could have been friends and wondering if this was the wisest road. He paused. "And if any of you," he said in a soft but carrying voice, "attack me again, it won't stop at broken bones – screw the rules. I'll kill you."

* * *

"You don't think that it's just because you're foreign, do you?" 

Syaoran turned to the pale-haired young man sitting beside him. Yukito had a large basket of meat pies and bread – more than Syaoran could have eaten in a whole day – and had sat down beside the young Chinese lord to eat it.

"What?" Syaoran asked, surprised that the young man was speaking to him. It wasn't that he didn't think Yukito _would_ speak to him, but there was a pale, white-haired man standing beside the champion, watching the current fight, and Syaoran was confused at how the young man could be in two places at once – unless they'd lied to him. "How're you . . . ?" he began, but Yukito chuckled around a mouthful of bread and tried to speak. He failed and swallowed before trying again.

"Look in Yue's hair," he murmured. They weren't sitting near anyone else, but Syaoran understood the need for secrecy, so he tried to remain nonchalant as he peered at the silvery locks of the tall, blue-eyed man.

"There's something yellow moving around in there," he said finally, curious.

"Kero," Yukito said, eating a meat pie in two bites and smiling as he pulled out another. "The spell is Mirror – the princess has used it to get away from court functions several times. I think this is the first time she's had Mirror impersonate a guard. Anyhow," he stuffed another meat pie in his mouth, smiling serenely all the time, "about my question. You don't really think they're after you because you're foreign?"

Syaoran blinked at him. "How did you hear about that?" he asked quietly.

Yukito became stern, which meant that his smile failed to reach his eyes and he stopped eating for a moment. "My question first."

Syaoran sighed. "Well, it's the only reason they gave me."

"Just because someone gives you a reason doesn't mean it's the only one they have. There are other foreigners here, you know. A few princes, even. You haven't noticed them?" he said when Syaoran looked surprised. "They're the ones with their own guards around them." He pointed to a forbidding ensemble of dark-skinned men. He turned back to Syaoran with an appraising look. "But even you should be able to tell that all the other men are afraid of you. You're a favorite to win – why shouldn't they attack you and make things easier for themselves? Plus the fact that the royal family obviously prefers you," he shrugged and ripped some bread off with his teeth. "They're resentful. Of course they'd go after you."

"I guess that makes sense," Syaoran agreed, thinking about this. "Yeah. It does."

Yukito only nodded and offered him a meat pie. Syaoran declined. He would be fighting a little after lunch today and he could barely think of food.

"Then," he said carefully, "you know that I lied."

Yukito paused with the bread halfway to his lips. He lowered it slowly. "You're going to tell her yourself," he said, and his tone brooked no argument. "She deserves to hear it from you. If you deserve her, then you'll do the honorable thing." He paused, ripping pieces off of his bread into smaller pieces. "If you don't, I'll tell her. Then I'll make sure you're the next one to fight her."

Syaoran sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a little put out at the threat. "Why don't you ask me to castrate myself? It would be so much easier."

"I'm not letting you take the easy way out," Yukito said, but the corners of his mouth were twitching.

Yukito was right. He had to tell her. But . . . "How _did _you find out?"

The pale-haired man gave a soft, laughing smile. "You think I don't have my spies? Besides," he leaned forward, "you need to keep your voice down."

Syaoran blinked, remembering how he'd yelled at the other men. He opened his mouth then closed it again like a fish.

"The guards heard you. You're lucky they came straight to me and not to someone else. I told them to leave it alone."

"Oh."

Syaoran turned back to the fight with a lot on his mind.

* * *

"I need to talk to you." Syaoran had finally caught her alone just after lunch. He pulled her a little behind the stands and faced her. 

"Are you worried?" she guessed, eyes concerned.

"What?" How could she know he was scared to tell her the truth?

"About the fight," she said. "Are you worried about it? You're opponent's pretty tough." She became confused when he only stared at her. "Or is it something else?"

Syaoran ran a hand through his hair. "I wasn't worried until now," he muttered. Honestly, he'd been too concerned with how to break the truth to her to even think about who he was fighting. But he shook his head and looked at her. "I have to confess something. I lied to you last night." He forced himself to look her in the eye, her shocked, sad, evergreen eyes that suddenly didn't seem so warm. Her trust was faltering. "I'm sorry," he continued, desperate to get that trust back. "I shouldn't have. I just . . . didn't want anyone to say I won because all the good warriors got thrown out."

"And who says you'll win?" her voice was restricted and her face white. She was upset, irrational, hurt. She didn't know whether to feel betrayed or not. He had lied, but he was telling her. Did that make it okay? Should she trust him again?

"They attacked me," he told her, wincing. "You can ask Yukito, if you like. But that doesn't make it my decision whether to tell you or not – I should have. I should have trusted you. I didn't. I'm sorry." He finally allowed himself to look away but his breathing didn't come any easier. He had confessed, but she had to pronounce a verdict.

"Don't do it again."

His head came up in disbelief. He stared at her solemn smile. "That easy? You're not going to yell at me or kick me out of the tournament or send me to the torture chamber?"

"You deserve another chance," she said, then smiled impishly over her shoulder. "But I _will_ tell my brother."

Syaoran groaned. "A hit."

* * *

"Don't you ever _ever_ lie to my sister again. I will personally kick your ass." 

That was the victorious greeting that Syaoran got once he got off the field from his fight. He was panting and sweaty, his shirt sticking to his back and his palms slick, and a shallow cut across his forehead, but it was obviously too healthy for Touya's taste.

"In fact, I ought to beat you down right now." The prince cracked his knuckles.

Syaroan looked at him, wondered who would win if they were both fresh, and then collapsed onto the grass. "Go ahead," he replied, stretching his legs out and letting the wind cool him off. He didn't actually want to fight, and was angry enough to strike the prince back if he tried, but he was far too worn out to argue about it. "I deserve it, and I'm too tired to fight back. But once you're finished, will you _please_ lay off? It's hard to get a girl to like you if her dearest brother is constantly making threats."

"What's going on?" A smiling pair approached the two young men. Yukito looked with knowing eyes at Touya, and Sakura sat beside Syaoran.

"That was a good fight," she told him, cheerful. Then she looked at him more closely and lost her smile. "Oh, that cut looks terrible. You should have it cleaned." She stood up and pulled him with her. "Does it hurt?" she asked as they moved away from the other young men.

"Not really," he replied, embarrassed and wanting to seem tough. It actually stung pretty badly. "And it's just a graze."

"Well, it's bleeding," she replied, staunchly refusing to listen to his protestations that he was fine. "And bleeding is never good."

"Thank you," he replied, meekly submitting to the hands of the man she'd taken him to. He understood infection as well as the next warrior and knew it was best to get any wound cleaned immediately.

The man doctoring him was a curiosity, though, because no one in this land had healing powers. Healing magic was highly valued in China, though Li didn't have any of his own, and, being from a high house, he had only ever been tended by a magical healer.

Sakura grinned at him. "I wanted to get you away from Touya, anyway." When he looked at her, surprised, she added, "I said that I would tell him - I didn't say that I wouldn't protect you from him."

"You are kind and merciful," he replied. He was relieved that she would have to protect him from her brother - it meant more time around her.

* * *

**AN:** (Married now. Joy!) I decided that I'd go ahead and post this chapter because it would just be an insanely long time before I posted if I tried to fit the whole day in. 

There will be a delay in the next chapter because I'm busy with my classes, but rest assured that it will come.


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